February 29, 2012
February 5, 2012
The Tenth, Not Final, Plague
I myself would not believe it, if not for the bell. Every night it rings–and rings and rings until I open the door and find–nothing. The tight corridor between the elevator, my neighbour’s door and the door to the stairwell crouches before me with an emptiness like famine, with a blackness like a plague of night.
At first I believed it was a joke, that the children downstairs had learned to play tricks on a lonely old foreigner.
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